Three Days of Bandh

As is routine in Nepal, if any organized group harbors some form of grievance, whether it be political, socio-economic, or pertaining to human rights, a strike or bandh is announced and is often applied nationwide. When a bandh is called, most individuals stay indoors to avoid getting caught in potential ignitions of violence on the streets. The only allowable means of transportation are a bicycle or one’s own two feet, and failure to abide by this rule is likely to result in a charred vehicle and a black eye. Offices, particularly those with financial dealings, are also advised to remain shut, though I have been witness to instances where the offices only appear to be shut. Operations continue behind closed shutters and doors, with padlocks seemingly still in place, creating a sense of secrecy only successfully done by underground associations.

In this instance, the three-day bandh was a continuation of one called earlier this month by the United Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist), commonly known as the UCPN(M) party, in response to the killings of seven Dalit squatters in the Dudejhari forest by the Nepal police and Armed Police Force. According to the Himalayan Times, the Maoists are demanding that those killed be declared as martyrs, while those injured receive appropriate treatment. A website dedicated to coverage and announcements of bandhs, aptly named ‘Nepal Bandh: bandh events in Nepal,’ claims that the UCPN-Maoist party is also “putting forward its demand, among others, restoration of civilian supremacy and formation of a national government under its leadership.” Under their opposition and newly formed coalition Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist-Leninist), a constitution is in draft phase and scheduled to be finalized and enforced by May 28, 2010. Somehow, I’ve gotten the feeling over the past couple of weeks that most have little faith in this promise.

During the bandh, I struggled to refrain from taking photographs even of the mundane scenes here in Nawalparasi, as I was cautioned of the general wariness that people understandably feel after years of instability and stunted development. For one, they often abhor the idea that the photographer may be capitalizing on their state of poverty and hardship. Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world (the 48th, to be exact), where 10% of the population is privy to 50% of the wealth, while the bottom 40% takes 10%*. The second cause of suspicion is due to trauma from the People’s War or Nepalese civil war, which lasted from 1996-2006. Abductions, rapes, and killings of civilians thought to be supporting one side or the other seem to have created a sense of paranoia that still lingers in the countryside. The concept of photographs as information plays on this. Still, there are many who find the idea of being photographed very glamorous and thrilling or completely irrelevant, and it’s in these instances that I naturally feel the most comfortable indulging in photography.

For us, in Nawalparasi, the effects of the bandh could be felt on its eve. As I scootered into town with a colleague, we were met by a blockade of Maoist supporters, elevated among burning tires and the soaring Maoist flag. Needless to say, we were forced to turn right back around and accept that our business in town would be placed on hold for at least another three days. En route back home, luck was certainly not with us, as we realized we were faced with a punctured tire and were forced to walk the scooter to a "mechanic" for a quick repair.

The first morning of bandh, happened to coincide with the father of my host family's father's death anniversary. As is customary in Tamil culture, on this day every year, the favorite foods of the deceased are offered to his spirit in memory and honor during a pooja. I joined the extended family for the pooja, which was followed by a meal, again, very similar to a traditional Tamil meal after such an occasion, of sweet rice, vegetables, and pickle.

On December 22nd, I was relieved to wake up to news that the bandh was over, for now at least. It looks like I’ll still be able to make it to Kathmandu to spend the holidays with new friends after all.

*Source: UNICEF, ILO, Child Workers in Nepal Concerned Centre (CWIN-Nepal)